Emerald green dress
by Peruvian Alpaca
Summary: Hermione had stuck with Ron for years after the war, putting up with his drunken escapades. On her 24th, she finds out that Ron was cheating on her. This incident led her to an encounter with the infamous Draco Malfoy, who was uncharacteristically caring to his childhood arch nemesis. Was that emerald green dress a bringer of pain and tears, or a lucky garment that brought love?


All the recognizable characters belong to JK Rowling, I own nothing but the plot. Enjoy!

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><p>Hermione's 24th was a completely unremarkable day with absolutely no company, save for her loyal half-kneazle, Crookshanks, bless her little squashed face. With a glass of red wine filled startlingly close to the brim and a handful of birthday cards strewn all over the coffee table, Hermione sat on her couch, flipping through the channels on the telly, stroking Crookshank's back in a soothing rhythm. She threw a glance over to the numerous unopened birthday cards on the table. A wistful sigh escaped through her wine-stained lips before she clamped her mouth shut. "No," she thought to herself sternly, "I will not be upset on my birthday." The head of St. Mungos had given Hermione a day off to 'catch up with her friends and get mightily drunk' much to her dismay. She had planned to work her arse off to distract her from the fact that she had no one to celebrate with. Harry was out on a stakeout for some Dark wizard activity over in Knockturn Alley, Ginny was on tour in Europe with her Holyhead Harpies team, her parents were on a dental convention, and Ron, oh dear Ron, her boyfriend, was probably passed out drunk in a bar somewhere. Ron came out of the war the most damaged.<p>

Everyone had lost some loved ones, but Ron, Ron took it the hardest because of Fred. It was to the point where even Fred's own twin, George had started living again and he didn't. Hermione had thought about leaving him several times throughout their relationship, and currently, that thought was lurking in the crevices of her front lobe. But she couldn't possibly leave him, not when he needed her the most. Despite his drunken escapades, Ron would always come home, grovelling at her feet, telling her how sorry he was and how much he loved her. Hermione couldn't bear the thought of leaving him to drown in his own vomit, crying out for Fred. Ron's behaviour had caused a strain in the Weasley family, and being with him had caused her to drift from the warm family that she dearly loved. She didn't know where her magnanimous Florence Nightingale complex came from, but tonight was proving to be too much for her to handle, even with her kind nature. It was now 7.43pm and Ron was nowhere to be found.

"Hermione?" A deep, masculine voice called out through the fireplace. Hermione whipped out her wand in the direction of the voice, her war-hardened reflexes coming to her naturally.

"Who is it?" Hermione shouted.

A rambunctious chuckle rang out through her living room, "It's George! Come on, get dressed. Didn't you read the card she sent, she swore she told you. Ginny commanded me to drag your bony arse out for your birthday and you know her, you don't want to disobey the mighty Mrs Potter." George joked, rolling his eyes at his sister's antics.

When Hermione shot him a bewildered look, George's laughing eyes gained an understanding glow, and his eyes focused on the unopened cards on the table, "ah, of course you didn't, you're too preoccupied worrying about Ronald, aren't you? Did you really think we'd all forgotten about you? That's it, go get dressed, we're going out for a night of wild and unadulterated fun at La Rosa!"

"The local bar? George, really, I can't. What if Ron comes-" Hermione protested, but George had already ended the Floo call.

Letting out the second unrepressed sigh of the evening, Hermione trudged up to her room and shrugged off her clothes and underwear. She stepped into the shower and cranked the hot water up. Lathering lavender soap all over her body, Hermione felt all the aches leave her body as rivulets of hot water pummelled her skin. When she felt sufficiently relaxed, she grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her body. Hermione then palmed through her wardrobe for a suitable outfit. "Work, work, work, grandma, work, slightly skimpy-" She mentally evaluated the outfits in her mind before finding one that looked decent. It was a shimmery, slinky emerald green dress that reached half of her thighs. Ginny had bought it with Hermione two years back on a shopping trip on one of her rare breaks from her hectic quidditch career.

"_Oh merlin, you have to get this!" Ginny squealed, shoving the said dress into Hermione's arms, "Ron will definitely come scampering back to you in no time if you showed a little leg now and then." _

_Hermione snorted, "he'll come right back if I opened a mini bar in our kitchen and invited all his bar-buddies." But she got the dress anyway, because despite knowing it was a lost cause, she was still willing to take the chance. _

_Later that night, Hermione found Ron putting on his coat, readying himself for another night of war reminiscing and shots. Smoothing out the non-existent wrinkles on her sequined green dress, she swayed towards him, her silver stilettos clicking loudly against the wood floor. Putting on a sultry smile, she ran her hands up and down her body, stopping only to cup her breasts. _

"_Why don't you stay home tonight and we'll have our own date night here?" Hermione purred, dragging her fingertips across his wool clad torso. _

_Shrugging her hand off with a grimace, Ron barked, "Why are you dressed like a cheap hooker? And in Slytherin colours, no less. You know how much I hate those snakes." _

"_Ron-" Hermione protested, "Ron, please, I just wanted to have a nice night with you. Ron, Ro-"_

_The door slammed shut and all that was left was the cold December gale, and a crumpled figure huddled against the door. _

Discarding the towel, Hermione slipped on the dress and sat down heavily at the dressing table. She shot a spell at her auburn locks and charmed it to fall in large curls. She swiped on some light makeup to mask her tired features, fastened the clasp of her metal bracelet and slipped on a pair of diamond earrings. Deeming herself as passable, she then put on her favourite pair of silver stilettos.

"Hermione Granger, you will go out there and enjoy yourself. Show Ron what he's missing out on." Hermione promised as walked towards the living room.

"Finally, Granger, I almost thought you fell asleep there." George said, his lanky body spread out languidly on her couch, and Crookshanks sprawled across his stomach. "You smell like lavender." He observed, after sniffing her slightly. Hermione rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand, leading him out of the door where George apparated them to La Rosa.

The bar was an exclusive, invitation-only place, but at moments like these, playing the war-hero card ensured that they were ushered in despite the three month waiting list. Loud electronic music drowned out the drunk shouting, and couples could be seen gyrating against the pulsing beats. Unable to communicate in the din, George tugged her arm to show her the way to the bar station.

"Two firewhiskey, please" George shouted to the bartender, settling himself down on an empty chair. Hermione glanced uneasily, surveying the place with a look of distaste. When the firewhiskey came, Hermione immediately grabbed one and gulped it down. A trail of fire licked her throat as the amber liquid trickled down, and a queer numbness settled onto Hermione's mind. Without second thought, Hermione grabbed George's drink out of his hand and greedily swallowed it.

"Whoa, hey, hey, slow down, we don't want you drunk so fast." George said hastily, wrestling the glass out of her hand.

"Sorry, I needed that."

"Hermione? Hermione Granger?" A nasal voice called out.

Hermione swivelled around to find a petite blond woman in her mid-twenties who looked as if she had ran through the makeup section in a departmental store and smashed her face into every single product. The clownish woman let out a shrill giggle, "Oh merlin, I just saw Ronald Weasley and Lavender Brown. Today must be my lucky day! Can I have your autograph?"

"Did you say Ronald Weasley and Lavender Brown?" George questioned sharply, glancing worriedly at Hermione's increasingly pale face.

"That's right! Just at the corner booth there," The woman pointed to a far corner of the bar, "now, about that autogra-"

Before she could finish her sentence, George had leaped out of his seat and stalked towards his brother, only to find him locked in a passionate embrace with a busty blond, looking straight out of a porno film. Hearing a loud crack and an indignant howl, Hermione ran towards the trio, seeing George towering over Ron, clutching his fist, while Ron sheltered the woman from the raging man.

"How dare you? _How fucking dare you?!_" George shouted while swinging his fist dangerously close to Ron's face. Hermione felt hot tears pool at the bottom of her eyes, she stumbled unsteadily away from scene and clasped a trembling hand against mouth. The blond woman peeked between Ron's arms and gasped. Hermione recognised her instantly. Lavender Brown.

"Hermione, please listen to me," Ron begged, still shielding Lavender from George, "I didn't mean for this to happen, she pounced on me, I swear! Hermione, Herm- Hermione, why the hell are you dressed like a slut! And in fucking Slytherin colours!" His tone changed from pleading to insulting when he saw her dress. Hermione backed away with disbelief, shaking her head furiously. George swung his fist against his jaw and yelled about how unworthy his pathetic excuse of a brother was of Hermione. Unwilling to hear more, Hermione swivelled around and ran out of the bar, her green dress catching the light of the fluorescent bulbs. She desperately wanted to disapparate but was afraid of splinching herself. Sliding down against the brick wall, she noted bitterly that this was the second time she had cried against wall in this very same dress. She stiffened suddenly as muscular arms secured around her, and before a scream could rip out of her throat, she was apparated away.

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><p>Author's notes: Hello, it's my first story! Do drop me a review and give me some constructive criticism. :)<p> 


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